Believed Him
by Misgiving Writer
Summary: No one knew who was the true hero. The true Boy-Who-Lived. Because it wasn't Harry, never was, never would be. But Dumbledore said it was and so the wizarding world believed him. Neville believed him. And it wasn't fair.


A/N: So this is my entry for the _Never Would Have Thought_ challenge on the _Writing Junkie Forum._ It's short, sweet, and maybe just a tad confusing. I was playing around with writing styles and ideas though, not to mention character views/personalities and this is the result. Enjoy!

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><p><em>It wasn't fair. <em>

That was the only thing that Neville could think of. the words repeated themselves in his mind, the only place he would let them be spoken. No one would understand it if he said it out loud. They were all for supporting Harry. Ron and Hermione and Dean and Seamus. All of them.

And that was fine. Neville supported Harry too. He certainly didn't want Voldemort to win. Neville would rather die than live in a world that was ruled by Voldemort, in a world where Pure-Bloods were the elite and everyone else was just swine ready for the slaughter. That wasn't how things should be.

And Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived, was there to stop that from happening.

At least, that's what the papers all said. Every day, from the Fourth Year on up, there had been an article on Harry in the paper. Praising him. Thanking him. Saying how grateful they were to have a savior, a beacon of light in what could be the Wizarding Worlds darkest hours, someone that would save them. No doubts in their mind that it was Harry. No doubts that the brash, emotion-driven boy living in Gryffindor Tower would save them all.

That's what wasn't fair.

What drove him mad.

Made no sense at all.

Because it wasn't Harry that was saving them! Oh, sure, the other boy had done a lot. Had driven Voldemort into retreat more than once. But that was it. That was all that he could do, make the Dark Lord retreat and go into hiding once more. Dumbledore had said it himself, in confidance, one night. The same night that Neville decided he really wouldn't have minded being a Squib.

It's not Harry's job, the old headmaster had told him. The Prophecy had meant Harry at one point or another but, because of the sacrifice his mother had made, Voldemort would never be able to kill him; neither would the Sword of Gryffindor or any form of a spell. Only old age would bring down the Potter's son.

Which meant that someone else would have to kill, not just Voldemort, but the final horcrux. The one trapped inside of Harry, intertwined with the other Gryffindor's very soul and mind. And this someone else, it had to be the other child that the Prophecy might have been refering to.

It had to be Neville.

And that's why it wasn't fair.

While Harry was off trying to find a fancy wand, one that would supposedly kill Voldemort with no problems, Neville was left to hunt down the horcruxes. He was left to lie to his friends and housemates and grandmother. They couldn't know what he was doing because then word could leak to Hermione and she would have no trouble at all figuring out that Harry himself was a horcrux. Trouble would come when she insisted they find a different way to kill it, a different way to end the war, one where Harry would live and breath and be aware of everything.

But there wasn't a way that could be done. Neville had looked everywhere. Through every book and tome and paper he had been able to get his hands on. Not a single one had offered an alternative.

So he set his plan in motion.

Dumbledore helped some, of course, but it came down to Neville in the end. Neville who made the choice to take Harry's wand, to lure him to Azkaban with promises of help on the search, to watch as the Dementors decended upon him and devoured, not just his soul, but the bit of Voldemort's soul as well.

Not a soul outside of himself and Dumbledore would ever know that the boy who finally slayed Voldemort, one wearing so many glimmers that he looked nothing like himself but everything like the real Boy-Who-Lived, was not Harry.

It had to be that way, Dumbledore often insisted, or else there might be an uprising. The Wizarding World would believe they were told nothing but lies, that their suffering was for nothing and anyone could have cast that final spell.

And Neville, like always, believed him.


End file.
